As Luck Would Have It by Mark Goldstein Page A

agreeable.  The truth is that I never had a very close relationship with my one living grandfather, and things were no better after the accident.   His daughter’s death had taken a painful toll on him and his health had deteriorated considerably over the past few months.  I liked Uncle Jack OK, but he was hardly around and we did not have much in common, the relationship being cordial but nothing more. 
    I liked Mr. Casslemond right off, even if my aunt did not share in my fondness for him.  He was always polite and gracious while in my presence.  Doreen argued with both Uncle Jack and me about it, claiming it was not only an inappropriate relationship, but also a potential conflict of interest on Mr. Casslemond’s part given the legal circumstances.  Jack suggested that she discuss it with our attorney, who was handling the details of the accident and the distribution of my parents’ estate, which Doreen apparently did because I overheard her complaining one night to my uncle about whether he had retained the services of a competent lawyer.  I was quite confused by all of this and was becoming irritated by my aunt’s opinions and more than a little bit suspicious of her motivation.  Go talk to the lawyer, Joseph suggested finally. 
    So I decided to show up unannounced one day at attorney Greenbaum’s office to ask him if he might explain to a naïve 14- year - old what actually was going on.  We were on spring break, so Joseph and I took the bus into the city without telling anyone, avoiding the very distinct possibility of resistance from one or more of our blood relatives.  We had never tried anything that bold before; maybe we were feeling a little like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn by that time, so even if our little adventure was not quite up to the ir level , off we went on it secretly anyway, not down the mighty Mississippi as they had, but rather down the almighty Interstate 94 in stead.  
    The law office was a bustling place on the 45 th floor of the Sears Tower downtown.  There was a large plush waiting area with a pleasant looking receptionist at her desk, alternately fielding phone calls and greeting clients as they entered.  Heller, Greer and Greenbaum was etched in large letters on the stone wall behind where she sat.  Several people in business attire were waiting and all of them looked up from their reading materials and gawked when we entered, much more curious about us I’m sure than the other way around.  No, we did not have an appointment, was our response to the lady, but yes, it was quite important that I get to see Mr. Greenbaum.  She frowned and hesitated for a moment before dialing the phone, but after announcing our arrival, proceeded to escort me immediately down a long corridor towards his office, while Joseph waited with the others reading Business Week and drinking the Coke that Mr. Greenbaum’s secretary had brought for him.
    I had never seen an office like Mr. Greenbaum’s before, nothing at all like the cramped and austere one my dad had taken me to once when his company had a father and son day at work.  I was about ten at the time and remember being less than impressed by his work place environment, with the noisy typing pool just outside his door and his window with a view of the parking lot and dingy looking alley that adjoined the building.  Now I was sitting in a comfortable leather chair that Mr. Greenbaum had pulled right up beside his, at a beautiful mahogany colored desk, with its ink well and calendar and a telephone like I’d never seen before, with its multiple flashing yellow lights, all neatly arranged around his desk blotter.  The office was so large, with a separate sitting area with couches and a stunning slate-top work table.  The windows went all the way to the ceiling and afforded an amazing view of the city, from which I could see the traffic below and even the airplanes flying in the distance.  The walls were made of dark paneling with